


Love Can Endure

by Obsimpsed



Category: The Simpsons
Genre: Burns x Smithers, It's not very shippy yet but it will get there I promise, M/M, Slow Burn, Tags get updated as we go, Work In Progress, irregular updates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21732886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obsimpsed/pseuds/Obsimpsed
Summary: Smithers decides enough is enough and finds a new job with one of Burns' old friends. Burns×Smithers
Relationships: Charles Montgomery Burns/Waylon Smithers
Comments: 28
Kudos: 71





	1. A Letter of Resignation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I've finally managed to post something I've written! This is the first fic I've ever publicly posted and I'm both super excited and super nervous :'3

Waylon Smithers was best known around Springfield for his position as the personal assistant and right hand man to Springfield's richest man, C. Montgomery Burns. He catered to the man's every whim and developed a rather close partnership. However, over the years he realized he had come to view his boss as less of a family friend and more as an infatuation. Infatuation turned to devotion, to full-on obsession, he spent half his life chasing after the old plutocrat. He sacrificed his time, his health, friends, worldly possessions, even giving up on a marriage betting on the hopes that one day his feelings would be returned. It had been decades ago that he had first realized his love for the man was unconditional, and up until the past month, he had never fully questioned whether any of his decisions had been worth the cost. 

The well-known fact that Smithers held a deep love for his boss and the fact that that love was completely unrequited went hand in hand. Even a blind man could see that Burns couldn't care less about his assistant as a  _ person _ , let alone whatever feelings he might possess. For all anyone knew, he wasn't even aware there were feelings involved in the first place. He was never gentle or kind to anyone, and his assistant was no exception. In fact, it wasn't a stretch to say he may have  _ even disliked _ the man. Smithers was always his personal punching bag and whether it was surviving an onslaught of insults or being denied any form of compensation for his years of over-the-top service, he always received the short end of the stick. He was there for Burns, beck and call, and for what? The rare moment where Burns would acknowledge his existence?

Still, despite everything, Smithers continued on as he always did. He brushed aside the insults, ignored his boss's lack of gratitude, and chose to focus on the little things about Burns that he admired. He always wondered how no one could see that Burns was much more than just some senile old man peddling nuclear energy for an inflated price. He was intimidating and sly, a cunning businessman, and had the agility to put men half his age to shame. He truly was admirable, but here Smithers sat at his desk in his bachelor pad, filling out papers, wondering if any of the things he truly believed about Burns were even present or was he so lost in his delusions that he only let himself see the things he wanted to see. 

Smithers leaned back in his chair. A look of misery was splayed across his face. He rubbed his eyes, sighed, and looked back at the piece of paper in front of him. His chest tightened the longer he sat there, gazing dreadfully at the half-finished document he had tried -and failed- so many times to write before. He took a deep breath and leaned forward to continue his work. This was not a letter he had any desire to complete, but one look towards the pile of what could have easily been 20-or-so scrapped attempts, taunting him with his own inability to go through with his decisions served as a reminder that this time he would finally end the cycle of heartbreak he had been putting himself through, once and for all.

Finishing up the last of his work, he placed each document neatly into a folder and made his way into his bathroom. He washes his face off in the sink and looks up at himself in the mirror. He was a sight for sore eyes if ever there was one. His hair was unkempt and messy, his face red and his eyes puffy from sobbing. He sniffled and brought a hand up to his forehead, dragging it down through his hair.

_ Hell, Waylon, look at yourself! _ He thought, staring into his reflection.  _ You're a wreck. You can hardly recognize yourself!  _

He steps back away from the mirror. He was not in the least bit prepared for tomorrow, and he knew wallowing in self hatred wasn't going to make anything easier. He'd do that once everything is said and done. He does his business and leaves, shuffling past his kitchen and into his bedroom. He was hungry, but he knew that if he ate anything it would never stay down. All he wanted to do right now is sleep and try to calm his racing mind. With his small terrier dog curled up by his foot, he wills himself to sleep, his thoughts chanting the same line over and over. 

_ I'm SO not ready for tomorrow. _

>>>×<<<

  
  


It all felt numb as he walked to his boss's office, a cup of coffee in hand, newspaper tucked neatly under his arm, the folder from the previous night tucked within his coat. He gazes down into the cup. He'd made quite possibly the nicest looking cup of coffee he'd ever created, replete with creamer art in the shape of a flower and a light sprinkling of cinnamon to top it off -a few of the little things he once performed happily, although these days he lacked the willpower to continue doing so. He took as much time as he possibly could making it. Realistically he probably only spent a minute or two on it, but he bathed in every second he could spend pretending he wasn't about to send his entire world for the past few decades crashing down.

He makes brief eye-contact with Burns walking in, and immediately averts his eyes. The closer he gets to Burns' desk the more his thoughts became focused on the letter, specifically doubtful thoughts. Did he really  _ have _ to give him the letter? He thinks maybe,  _ just maybe, _ Burns would be on his good side. __

_ Well If Burns was on his good side, then who knows, maybe he'd notice the coffee? Maybe he'd see the sudden extra effort and say something good about it? _

The newspaper was placed in Burns' outstretched hand, the coffee placed in front of him. 

_ Well if he says anything good I might want to give him another chance. I wouldn't have to give him any letter except the newsletter.  _ He reasoned with himself. It was a poor excuse, but it was the best he could come up with.

He watches hopefully for a response on Burns' end, anything, even just a snort to signal that he noticed anything had changed. Movement from Burns caught Smithers' eye. Not even bothering to move his eyes from the paper he takes a sip from the coffee and simply just places it back down, none the wiser to anything different. Burns' nose remained buried in the newspaper, only moving again to turn the page. Smithers turned away and just looked ahead of him. Of course, he thought, Burns didn't notice, and if he did, he didn't care. The stars would have to be aligned for Burns to ever just dole out a complement for something as trivial as  _ coffee _ . It was exactly what he expected. He probably didn't ever notice he stopped doing anything in the first place.

The folder in his coat pokes him in the arm, making it's existence ever-so-known. He slowly, dreadfully, pulls it out of his coat and runs his hands along it's slick surface. 

"Hell's that?" Burns suddenly asked, the folder obviously having caught his attention.

Smithers takes a deep breath and sighs, it was now or never. A bead of sweat forms on his forehead as he pulls out the few sheets of paper, the first of which being a bubblegum pink color. There was only one type of form in the entire plant that would be colored pink, it was unmistakable. Smithers knew that, and so did Burns as he took the papers from Smithers' hand and surveyed them, an eyebrow raised.

In that moment it felt as if time had stopped. His face was drained of color, he felt weak, like he would just topple over dead at any second, and if the look Burns was now giving him could kill he surely would do just that. He watched in utter dread at the old man before him, who met his terrified gaze with a cold one. The old man raised a curled paw up to the piece of paper.

"What-" he said icily, jabbing a crooked finger into the paper "is this?" 

Smithers swallowed the lump in his throat. 

"That is a letter of… resignation, sir… er, my resignation, that is." Smithers coughed nervously. The look Burns was giving him could burn a hole through him. Smithers couldn't meet his eyes and opted to look towards the ground. How long he had been silently standing there under Burns' scrutiny, he couldn't tell you. He only looked up when he heard the sound of the papers being placed down onto his desk. He watched Burns fold the papers, push it away from him, and stand. Slowly he made his way passed the desk before stopping directly in front of Smithers. He had to admit, he certainly wasn't being delusional when he thought Burns intimidating. For a man that small, he certainly knew how to make others feel smaller. He stood for a minute, inspecting Smithers top to bottom. After seemingly finding an answer to whatever internal question he had, he leaned against his desk, his cold expression seeming to fade into a more relaxed look. Burns let out a laugh before speaking.

"Really Smithers? You can't seriously think I'd believe this! You? Quit ME?" Burns laughs harder before slapping a hand down on Smithers' shoulder 

"For a second you almost had me there! Always the jokester, ey?" 

"Heh, uh…yeah. That's me. The…the jokester" Smithers replied, laughing in a manner that was obviously forced. 

Smithers figured Burns must have picked up on the insincerity in his reply, as he seemed to now be eyeing him suspiciously, his smirk lowering, and his laugh turning awkward. 

"You  _ are _ kidding? Right?" 

Smithers couldn't bring himself to make eye contact, but he could see Burns turn to look at the papers on his desk, then back to Smithers.

"Oh.  _ Oh. _ " Burns retracted his hand from Smithers shoulder, in a way that reflected his building anger.

"I see how it is. What, so you think you can just up and disappear on me?" 

Something about the way he'd said that rubbed him the wrong way. Even if it  _ was _ technically what he was doing.

"N-no sir, er, I-I mean I guess but… uh-" 

"Oh, quiet, Smithers." spat Burns, interrupting Smithers' protest. Yet again the room was filled with silence. Smithers hung his head, one part in shame, one part because he found he still couldn't make eye contact. 

"You wouldn't do it anyways." 

"W-what?" Smithers was surprised by Burns' reaction. He had expected him to just fire him on the spot, or at the very least just not care.

"You wouldn't do it. You don't have the spine to actually leave." 

Smithers met his gaze. He wanted to agree with him and just go back to his desk with a 'yes sir, sorry sir' but something about the sneer crawling across the older man's face kept him quiet. He pursed his lips and didn't move. Burns took notice of this and continued on.

"You've devoted so much of your life to this plant and to me. You wouldn't leave it all behind so suddenly. You're too spineless. All I have to do is say 'Smithers, you're staying' and you'd never say a peep against it." He wasn't wrong, Smithers thought, but even still he didn't move.

"Well, Sir I-" 

Burns interrupted Smithers yet again with a dismissive hand wave. Smithers could feel his temperature start to rise as he began to get frustrated. 

"Seriously Smithers, don't kid yourself, you'd obey any command I'd send your way and you know it. Watch, if you will, I'll prove it!" Burns snaps his fingers and walks over to the monitors, surveying the plant nonchalantly.

"Smithers, see those ruffians over there in sector 7G?" He flicks a boney finger towards the monitor, where pretty much every worker in that sector was gathered in a circle, watching a larger man scarf down an ungodly amount of donuts. 

"-Take care of them for me, would you? Luckily for you, your sudden sense of confidence is just pitiable enough for me to be willing to let you off the hook, so keep me in a good mood and we can forget about this when you come back, hmm?"

Smithers stood defeatedly. He tries to move his legs toward the door, but finds that something in him doesn't want to move. He could almost feel himself begin to panic at his lack of mobility, but the feeling was brief, as it was soon replaced with rising defiance. He had stressed over this -over the prospect of him finally quitting and forcing himself to move on- for the past month, and he was just going to let Burns brush him off like it was nothing? He clenched his fists. He'd given up and fallen back into line way too many times, felt sick and tired of being the only one of them ever hurt. 

"No." 

Burns whipped his head back to Smithers with a look of surprise. Even Smithers himself was surprised by his sudden insubordination. The look faded from Burns' expression and was replaced with anger. 

"What!?" He growled.

Smithers met his gaze. Internally still panicking, but he pushed that aside. The time to back down had passed already and now he knew if he didn't do something all of his efforts would be for nothing.

"I said no. No sir, I won't." He took a deep breath and stood tall. 

For a brief minute he thought he saw a flash of panic in Burns eyes as well, but had it been there, it had left as quickly as it came. Burns raised his lip in a snarl and moved towards Smithers. 

"Why I oughta-" 

"You oughta  _ what _ ?" Smithers barked. As terrified as he felt, he was liking the feeling of standing up for himself for once. Burns however did not, still looking daggers at his assistant.

"Rrrrrg- FINE then! Smithers! You are  _ fired! _ " Burns shouts, stomping his foot and pointing towards the door. 

"Get out! Out, out, out! " 

Smithers huffed and stomped his way to the door. 

"You can't fire me! I already quit!" Smithers declared before flipping Burns the bird and walking out of his office.

He would have taken his sweet ass time getting to his car had it not been for the fast-approaching sounds of a herd of claws on tile floors. It wasn't until he got home, having managed to evade the hounds with only a nip in his leg, did he realize the gravity of what he had just done. He had quit working with Mr. Burns! And it felt great! -of course until the high wore off, that is. The second he realized what that meant he let out a long, depressed groan.

_ I really did quit working for Mr. Burns, huh? _ He thought.  _ What have I done? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being much longer then I originally thought it was gonna be, I was thinking I was gonna stop at 800 words not twice that much! Either way thanks for the read, I can't wait to post more! I've been meaning to post my writing for a while now and I'm happy I can finally say I did it.  
> So whaddo y'all think? I think the idea of Smithers just saying 'screw it' and leaving is such an interesting thing to write and I haven't seen too much of it (but what I have seen has been amazing, honestly the simp fandom has such amazing authors). Now do remember I'm new to posting my work, I've posted artwork before but fanfic is different. I'll update this whenever. Right now, the rating is mostly for the language, if that changes I'll say something about it in the author's notes.
> 
> And on the next chapter, Smithers gets some time to himself to think! (And so does Burns)


	2. Thoughts to Yourself

"Just  _ who _ does that man think he is?!" 

Burns sat down in his desk chair and angrily gripped it's arms. It was hardly imaginable that Smithers would ever go against an order! Yet there he sat, watching through the glass wall behind his desk as the grey-haired man sprints into his car, narrowly avoiding the snapping jaws of his 6 trained attack dogs.

He'd noticed Smithers' incredibly odd behavior kick up about a month ago. At first it was subtle, he would occasionally space out, not having heard what he'd asked of him. Soon it became so frequent that he would look up at Smithers from his papers to see the man out of focus, gazing out into the room at nothing in particular. Then the quality of his work began to drop. Where he once was meticulous in his work, perfectionism as his standard, soon became lackluster. Usually Smithers had always been a vibrant fellow, he always knew just what to say or just what to do when it came to lifting his mood. He would dish out compliments and add little, barely noticeable touches to things to brighten them up, like keeping Burns' office supplies in the exact same position each day or making art in the coffee he would serve in the morning. But those days had seemed to pass as he then began to be more distant, more cold. And then he stopped being excessive in his work entirely. Now Smithers seemed so monotonous in his actions, as if his usually cheery demeanor had faded and all that was left was the bleak, bare minimum of emotional effort it took to get through the day.

It was frustrating, really. Where was the passion? The work ethic? The love? In Smithers defense, he still always got the job done, but this was  _ Smithers _ , such minimal effort was unbecoming of him. Of course he didn't want to say anything about it, he thought whatever issue Smithers had would resolve on it's own and he'd return to his usual obsessive self eventually. He thought he'd seen that today but apparently not! 

_ How sweet, Smithers.  _ He thought.  _ One last hurrah before you decide to ditch me. Might as well have just kicked me while you're at it. _

He actually rather liked Smithers obsessiveness! He wasn't about to admit that of course. It wasn't that he particularly cared or anything -at least that's what he tells himself. It was just odd. It was odd for Smithers to act so distant, and it was odd for him to now evolve into complete defiance. 

Now that he thought about it, there were only ever two times he could remember where Smithers directly defied an order. Once some time ago, Smithers became suddenly absent, to then quit out of the blue to run off with some friend of his. He never got to find out what that was about, but it didn't matter. It didn't take long before Smithers had returned to him, without him even needing to bribe the man to come back. Then there was another time, back quite a few years ago, Burns recalled, he had blocked out the sun in an attempt to double his profits. He had proposed the idea to Smithers hoping he would be on board with the project, but Smithers had refused to have a part in it and as a result got fired. He had still gone through with the plan anyway, but he remembered a certain ache in his heart as he watched his closest and only friend become a miserable alcoholic. 

Burns blinked at the sudden realization. 

_ How will he fare now that he's left off to do god-knows-what? _ He wondered, watching Smithers' car peel out of the parking lot.

_ What will become of the man? Will he turn back to boozing his way through the hours until he reluctantly returns to me, begging for his old position back? He'd be an idiot to think I'd let him make off like this stunt hadn't occurred! _

_ He'll be back. He always comes back.  _

… 

_ But what if he doesn't? _

The thought made his breath catch in his throat. He never feared being away from Smithers' aid for too long. He had always returned no matter what the circumstances for his leave were. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if Smithers was at his feet by noon!

_ But who knows what he'd do at this point. I hadn't expected him to even leave in the first place, if he can will himself to actually quit he could just as well will himself to never return. I figured he would just fall into line as always! What if this time he's serious?  _

"Damnit Waylon what are you thinking! I knew I was rather harsh these past weeks but it's your own damn fault for acting so unbearably drab! I'm Monty Burns, and I cater to no-one, especially not to the feelings of some insignificant bootlicker!" He crumples up the papers and chucks the ball into the trash, speaking out loud to no-one in particular.

"Whatever, have fun among the boozers and drunks you've suddenly decided to trade me for. This backwater burg is a wasteland, I'm not chasing after you. There are so many men like you, I don't even know why I care."

… 

_ But thats the thing, there aren't many men like you, at least none 'exactly' like you.  _

He was right in that thought. There were no men exactly like Smithers. He could find men to toady for him anywhere for the right price, but he'd never find one nearly as dedicated, never one nearly as caring, and certainly never one as loyal. Truth be told, Smithers was irreplaceable and he knew that. There was nobody else who could be half as willing to put up with his nit-picking, his insulting, his scheming -only Smithers could ever be able to do that, and only he could do it happily. 

"You know what? Fine.." Burns muttered to himself, tenting his fingers. 

"I'll let him have this little power trip of his. He'll return to me like he always does, and when he's back I'll figure some way to get back at him. For now, we wait." 

Burns looked out into the now still parking lot. The hounds had returned behind him and left off to their kennels through a passage in the wall. Mr. Burns favorite of them all, Crippler, came to sit beside his chair. Burns scritched the top of the dogs head. 

"He'll come back, right?" Burns asked, realistically talking more to himself than to the dog.

"Yeah. Yeah, he'll come back." 

He hoped he wasn't just telling himself that.

The rest of the work day was uneventful, and without Smithers, drastically more boring. The usual tom-foolery from sector 7G was still as present as ever, the larger of the three men -his name Burns couldn't remember for the life of him- downing mustard packets in the cafeteria like it's the end of the world, while the other two and some onlookers chant like morons. Even after walking in and firing the lot he still felt bored, and even the joy he got from watching the smallest of the three men shriek as a stream of mustard shot directly into his eye was fleeting. 

Getting around the rest of the day without Smithers was proving to be a challenge. He luckily managed to get his car working and even managed to get himself home only hitting a few trash cans on the way. Strangely enough, people always seemed to clear the roads whenever he was behind the wheel. Cooking dinner was near impossible, so he had opted to just order Chinese take-out and eventually put himself to bed, cradling Bobo. He hoped Smithers would come to his senses soon. He didn't much like having to try to figure things out himself. He hated change and Lord knows he wasn't about to start liking it now.

>>>×<<<

Smithers found himself feeling miserable. It wasn't often that his partnership with Burns was severed, especially not by his own doing, but each time he noted that no matter how he got away from Burns; he always ended up feeling miserable as a result. 

This was what he wanted.

But even still, old habits die hard.

He had spent the entire day that he had been freshly unemployed drinking and sulking, and now he was paying for the consequences the morning after, hungover with a raging headache. He groaned as he sat up from his bed, his eyes pained as they tried to adjust to the stream of sunlight setting into his room through the window. Today was already off to a rough start not even a minute in. 

He sat there rubbing his eyes for a good minute before letting his hands fall back down onto his lap. His house was still and quiet as he racked his brain trying to figure out what on Earth had even happened yesterday. He remembered quitting his job and heading home to drink, that's for sure. The rest just seemed too blurry to make out. He probably didn't want to remember anyways.

He grabbed his glasses, headed out of bed and stumbled into the hallway. From there he was able to get a good look at the state of his living room. 

"Oooh… great." He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and walking further in.

His living room was a mess. Bottles and cigarette butts were strewn about everywhere. His ashtray completely knocked over onto what was once a pristine white carpet, and his couch -once also clean- now had multiple ash smears on it's arm as well as a few new holes burnt into it. He had a habit of trashing the place while drunk, at least this time he didn't break any windows.

Suddenly a set of small paws began jumping at his legs. It was Hercules!

Smithers picked up the small terrier dog. 

"Hey, little guy." He said quietly, his voice a little hoarse. The grey pup licked his face in response. 

"This place is a mess, huh?" 

He scratches the pup's head and puts him back down. He surveys the room, sighs, and then gets to tidying the room. Not much can be done about the furniture, he figures, but for now he can at least get rid of the trash. And maybe take a pain pill. 

Or two.

Once his living room and his person was clean, he grabs a leash and moves to take Hercules outside. The dog needed a walk and he figured he did too, the fresh air could do him some good. 

And he was right, it did.

Rollerblading down the streets of his neighborhood was refreshing. He was still a little groggy, and more than a little morose but the chilliness was soothing, and his head was clearer. Autumn was his favorite season for many reasons. While the hot air of summer became cooler, the colors of the leaves became warmer. The neighborhood was filled with the smell of pumpkin pie and Halloween was as good an excuse as any to dress up. He was never usually out-and-about during the day like this, usually by now he'd be deep inside the nuclear plant making Mr. Burns lunch. He always arrived to the plant in the early morning and left the mansion late at night, and whatever time spent outside in the day was to run often time-sensitive errands. 

_ I wonder how he's doing without me? _ He pondered.  _ Poor man's probably got his hands full. Maybe I should check in on- _

_ No _ . Smithers mentally kicked himself.  _ Now's not the time to be thinking of him. I'm a free man today and I'm going to enjoy it, damnit! _

His day went by pretty smoothly as first. He sat at home job hunting online while corny soap operas played as a background noise. Unfortunately without any luck finding a job and the nightfall providing him ample time to overthink, he yet again found himself shoulder deep in his fridge, reaching in the back for something to drink in hopes that alcohol could somehow act as a barrier to keep his bad memories and salty tears from surfacing. His hand lands on the cardboard bottle carrier.

A-hah! He pulls the container of Duff out of the fridge. It's empty. Probably why it was so light. He sighs and looks at the clock. 9:23 pm. 

_ Ah hell. _ He thinks to himself.  _ The liquor store closed nearly half an hour ago, damn! _

He thinks for a moment. 

_ Ya'know, I could really use a drive right about now. _

He looks towards his car keys, which he had hung up on the wall by his door. And I know a place over in Greenville thats open 'till 11. But is it really worth it to drive all the way out there just to get something to drink?

Yes. He decided. The answer is yes.

He grabs his keys and jacket and makes for the door. Just as he puts his hand on the doorknob, Hercules comes running out from his spot on the couch to join Smithers at the door. He couches down and pets his head. 

"Buddy you were already out today." Hercules stares up at him with beady eyes. 

"I'll be right back, I'll only be gone for a few." He assured the dog. Hercules tilted his head. Smithers sighs, his hands on his hips looking down at the unblinking dog.

"Alright, alright, fine you can come too."

Smithers leashed his collar and carried him out to the car. The drive was fairly quick, only around 10 minutes. Greenville was one of the smallest, yet wealthiest, of the cities neighboring Springfield. It was home to many of the middle and upper class citizens that wanted to see the landscapes around Springfield without having to actually  _ live _ in Springfield. Many of the stores around sold some type of alcoholic drink, and usually at a better quality than what can be found in Springfield. Smithers would have loved to live here, but the place isn't cheap, and he'd never be able to afford living here with the pay Burns had him working with, and definitely not now that he didn't really have a pay.

The store he drove to wasn't the cheapest, but they were the closest and he wanted to get home. Not seeing a no-dogs sign anywhere, he picks up his pooch and carries him in. The store had a nice interior, and an even nicer selection of drinks. Smithers already knew what he wanted. He waves to the cashier and b-lines for the selection of Duff. Duff wasn't the greatest, but it got the job done quickly. 

He grabs a case with his free hand and turns to make his way to the cashier, but just as he turns around he immediately collides with the man in front of him. 

"Hey, watch it, I almost dropped my… stuff…" his voice trailed off as he stared at the older man in front of him. 

Smithers recognized him, it was Mr. Burns' old boarding school buddy! He hadn't seen him since Moe upgraded, then downgraded, his tavern. 

"Waylon!" The older man called. "Oh my, what a pleasant surprise to find you here!" Smithers re-adjusted his grip on his dog. 

"Hey there, Nigel. It's been a while!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Nigel, even though he's only a one-off in the actual show I still feel like he doesn't get enough love. Made this chapter longer and more organised than I did for the first chapter, think im gonna try to make 2,000 words my minimum. Also I kinda have a plot now! ^w^


	3. Old Friend, Old Boss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't seen the episode 'Moho House', now would be a good time to watch it.

"My, it surely has. Dare I say it's been too long since we've met." Nigel brings his gaze to the pup. 

"And who would this little beast be?" 

"Oh, that's my dog, Hercules. He keeps me company when I'm out alone."

Smithers smiled at Hercules, who wagged his tail at the mention of his name. Nigel brings his hand to the pup's head and gives him a quick pat.

"Speaking of beasts, Waylon, how's that old beast Monty been since I've left? Surely he's up to some sort of trouble." Nigel smiled softly.

He shifted his feet at the mention of Burns' name. 

"Er, well, as far as I know he's being his usual -ruthless… probably plotting some sort of evil scheme to double his cash." Smithers waves his hand passively. Nigel raises an eyebrow at this and leans his weight into his cane. 

"You say that with some uncertainty. Has something come up between the both of you?"

Smithers swallowed his breath. He had been avoiding mentioning he no longer toadied for Burns, he didn't want to make conversation about it. Frankly Burns and his problems were the last thing he even wanted to be thinking about, albeit he didn't quite have that option. But Nigel was on to him and He wasn't about to lie to the man's face. He clears his throat.

"Well, to be honest… I-I'm no longer really… working for Burns." He said with a somewhat forced smile. Nigel looked shocked by the news.

"I haven't been gone for very long, but-" he chuckled "-You know how ol' Burnsie is. That man could get up to anything in a day or two. Last I checked, he was doing perfectly fine."

"But Waylon, you two had been quite the pair, you were so devoted to your work. Whatever became of that?"

"I know, I know, I was devoted to him -er, the work I mean, I really was- but devotion can only go so far with that man. I got so sick of doing everything for him and never getting anything in return. I guess at this point it's my own fault for expecting anything in the first place." He looked away, seemingly lost in thought before he remembered that he was currently in a conversation with a person. 

"Oh! I-Im sorry I'm just ranting-"

"No no, it's fine." Nigel cuts. "So, if I may ask, what's become of you now?"

Smithers looked towards the man in front of him. He held a smile on his face as he waited for an answer. He seemed friendly, though now that he looked deeper, Smithers thought, the smile almost looked a little sneaky. He would have found this suspicious, but he wasn't being asked to spill any of Burns' secrets, as far as he was concerned they were just making friendly chit-chat.

"I'm actually currently job hunting. No one in Springfield seems to be hiring right now, I don't want to search out of the city but I'm thinking I might have to. I'd hate to move out of Springfield but I guess if push comes to shove." He shrugs.

Nigel's smile widens, as if he had just had an idea.

"Say, Waylon, what would you think about taking up a job here? The area's nice, and I believe I may have just the job to fit your tastes." 

Smithers watched him. Yeah, he thought, there's something sneaky about him.

"And what kind of job would that be?" He replied, trying to hide his suspicion.

"Why, you could be my own assistant of course!" 

He gasped at the suggestion. 

"Your-" Smithers cut himself off "Wait, what do you need an assistant for? I don't know your business but; aren't you retired?"

"Retired in work, but not in life, my good man. I'm in need of some assistance getting along through the day. Cooking, cleaning, driving. All of these tasks that I'm unfortunately no longer able to take care of on my own"

"So like… a butler?"

He nodded and snaps his fingers.

"Yes, yes, like a butler. So what do you say, old chum, we have a deal?" Nigel laughed

"It'll be like that day I nearly won you in that bet of mine and Monty's. Nearly lost my fortune too, hadn't you saved my rear."

Smithers felt uneasy. He remembered that night at the bar, where Burns had used him as a gambling chip in exchange for Nigel's fortune. He was terrified that night. He had come so close to having to leave the plant he had loved so much, and having to leave Burns as well. He also remembered that kiss that was definitely more than just friendly. In fact, Nigel in general seemed overly _'friendly'_ that day. He began to question Nigel's intentions with him.

"Well, I don't know. I don't-"

"You two have been standing there forever, will you fools just pay and leave?"

A voice calls from the other end of the store. They turn to look at the very agitated cashier. He stood by the register giving both men the stink-eye.

"Oh, I should probably check out then, heh."

He laughed nervously and headed towards the cashier, he pays and both men head out of the store. Smithers loaded his drinks and his dog into his car and turns towards the waiting man. 

"Nigel, you're very sweet but… I don't know, I was kinda hoping to find something that wouldn't be so similar to what I had with Burns. Ya'know-" He makes circles with his hand 

"-Broaden my horizons a bit." 

"Well, how about we talk over drinks then? I'm certain I could change your mind. It'll be my treat."

"No no, very flattering but it's fine. It's late, I have to get back home and this little guy looks tired." He motions towards his dog, who was laying down on his passenger seat. 

Nigel grunts. He smiles still, and reaches his hand into his coat pocket. He pulls out a card and gives it to Smithers. 

"It's my number. If you change your mind, I expect a call." He makes his way past Smithers and down the sidewalk.

"Do keep in contact, now." He calls without turning his head. 

Smithers sighed. He stood by his car, smoking a cigarette for a good few minutes after that. It wasn't that he didn't like Nigel. For all he knew, he wasn't a bad guy, definitely a lot tamer then Burns. But there was something about him that made him feel a little… off . The last time him working with Nigel was in question it was over that stupid bet that he wasn't even supposed to be involved in anyway. He dreaded the idea that he'd just be cast out like his and Burns' years together meant nothing. He couldn't help but have a sour taste in his mouth.

But those years didn't really mean anything in the end, huh.

He felt torn. Not just from his encounter with Nigel but from the whole situation he'd put himself in. On one hand working with someone else could be the push he needs to get over Burns and maybe get his life together. Nigel seemed like a decent guy and he couldn't possibly be worse than Burns. But on the other hand… he felt like no matter what he did he'd just end up spending his time worrying about him. This wasn't his first attempt to move on and he had already spent too much of his free time wondering how Burns was and if he was ok. He still loved Burns, and that wasn't going to change any time soon. 

And he didn't like how comfortable he was with admitting that to himself.

The top to his convertible rolls down as he drives off quietly back to Springfield. 

"Oh I'm gonna have a looonng night."

As soon as he got home, he heard the ringing of his house phone going off. _Strange_ . He thought, looking up at the clock. _It's nearly 11, who on earth is calling me?_

The phone stops ringing and on the receiver flashed that there were 2 other missed calls, both of which happened within the same 20 minute timespan as the one he'd just let ring out. The phone flashed the number of the caller. 

_Oh, HELL no!_

It was _Burns_.

He stared in disbelief at the phone as it started ringing for what was now the fourth time. He almost let himself answer, but retracted his hand. 

_What the hell does he…? N-no._ He plopped himself on his couch. _No, Not this time. I'm not going to let myself be talked into coming back. I'm stronger than this!_

The TV turns on and he cracks open one of his drinks, content on just letting the phone ring out.

_The phone can keep ringing, I don't care. His problems aren't mine._

And keep ringing it did, and when it was finished ringing, it rang again. The less sober he became; the more annoyed he got. He tried focusing on the TV, but his attention was always brought back to the incessant ringing. The ringing stops and yet another call chimes in after it. He lets out an annoyed groan.

"You persistent bastard, are you _done_ yet?"

He slams his drink down on his coffee table and glares at the receiver. The last call rings and the house is filled only with the sounds of the washed up celebrities trying to make a comeback on TV. ' _Finally_ ' he mutters, turning his attention elsewhere. He gets a good minute of peace before, of course, the phone's loud call splits through the air for a seventh time. 

_God damnit!_

Fed up, he stomps towards the receiver and rips the phone off its stand. 

"What in God's name do you-"

"SMITHERS!"

The sudden explosion from Burns' end made him drop the phone. It clatters to the ground. Burns' screaming hadn't ceased. He puts his face in his hands and takes a minute to breathe. If tonight hadn't already been enough…

He picks it back up and brings it to his ear. 

" -This you incompetent baboon! Have you any idea the trouble you've put me through!?" Burns pauses. His angered breathing audible.

"Well!?"

"Monty are you done yet?"

"Wha? Er- why, you! You have some nerve to speak that way to me! And don't call me Monty! How dare you, you-" 

Smithers sighed. He was in no mood to be dealing with really anything right now, let alone Burns.

"Sir just what do you want this late at night?" 

"What do I want?" Burns was seething. 

"What do I WANT!?" 

Smithers felt his temper rising as Burns hurled more insults his way. Yet again he felt sick and tired of Burns. His grip tightened on the phone.

"Rrrrg! YES! What do you _WANT_ , DAMNIT!" He screamed, slamming his balled up fist against the table. 

The other line went completely silent. Smithers takes the time to take in a deep breath. He could really get used to yelling at Burns like this, he thought.

After a minute, Burns' began to speak on the other end, much more collected but still angry.

"I want you to bring your bootlicking ass down to the mansion, pronto. I'm starving over here. I feel like I haven't had a proper meal in weeks."

"Yeah, no. I won't be doing any of that. I don't work for you anymore. If you're hungry, order out, or hire a chef, and frankly you've only been without my cooking for two days."

"Smithers, I-"

"No sir. I'm done with you. I don't work for you anymore. Goodbye, Mr. Burns."

He moves to hang up the phone, but a faint voice on the other end stops him. It was too quiet to make out, so he puts the phone back up to his ear.

"What?" He asks. 

…

Silence

…

"You were supposed to be back by now."

"What? Whats that supposed to mean?"

"You were supposed to have come crawling back to me by now the same way you always do. What's stalling you? You can't already have found a new job, you wouldn't last a day! I'd make sure of it."

Smithers couldn't believe what he was hearing. 

"Crawling back t-? Excuse me? What the hell are you on about Burnsie?"

"Oh, you know exactly what I'm on about." His voice was cold as he spoke.

"I left and I left for good this time! And what do you mean 'you'd make sure of it'? What the hell's wrong with you?"

"Now You listen to me Waylon, and you listen good . No-one abandons the great C. Montgomery Burns and gets away with it. I want you, and only you, as my assistant, and you know -" he paused.

"I always get what I want."

Smithers face was contorted in a mix of anger and disgust. His hands were trembling and so was his voice. 

"Y-you sick b-bastard. I'll… j-just… D-dont call this n-number again you… sick-"

Smithers was cut off by the maniacal laughter erupting from Burns on the other end. It was the same type of laughter that Smithers had heard many times before, often the kind that would accompany the hatching of some of his more malevolent schemes. It was deep, and incredibly terrifying to hear directed at one's self. His hands trembled as he hung up the phone, silencing Burns' laughter and again filling the house with silence, save for the TV. He sat back down and immediately chugged the rest of his drink. He opened a new one to chug as well. Wiping the sweat off his forehead he muttered a barely heard _what the fuck_ and tried to collect his thoughts. He was confused as hell by what just happened, but he did know one thing for sure. Working with Nigel didn't seem like such a bad idea anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Burns is something else, huh?
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you all SO much for the nice comments. I love that other people are enjoying reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it! 💜 I try to get back to everyone as soon as I can.  
> Also you may have noticed I changed the name of this fic and edited the description a little. I didn't entirely have a plot when I made this at first but now that I have one I wanted the title and desc to be more fitting.


	4. Business as (Un)usual

_Looking sharp._ Burns stood in front of his largest mirror, admiring the job he'd done. He'd managed to put on most of his suit himself without skipping any buttons this time. It was a decent job considering he was without any help, but his tie hung crooked and his coat had more wrinkles than he had on his skin. He frowns and tries to fix the tie again. 

_As sharp as a spoon! To hell with the tie!_ He rips it off his neck and throws it to the ground. Truth be told he no longer remembered how to properly tie a tie. He'd been trying to tie it like how one would put a knot in a rope and wondering why it wasn't looking right. He didn't know he was doing it wrong of course and just figured there must have been something wrong with the tie.

_When Smithers gets back here I'll make sure he deals with whatever company manufactured this cheap trash. Speaking of him, where in blazes is that man already?_

It had only been a week now since their last interaction over the phone and since Smithers had hit the trail. Burns spent most of those days plotting what he should do first; get back at Smithers or get Smithers back.

"Wasting my valuable time." He began to think out loud.

"He knows I'm an important man. I shouldn't be bothered with this nonsense."

Pots and pans are heard banging around as he descends down the main staircase to the first level of the mansion. He'd decided to take Smithers' advice -only after telling himself it was his own idea- and hire a few chefs to prepare his meals. He wasn't particularly happy about the idea of letting random men into his house but if he had to choke down leftover take-out one more time he felt he'd go insane. He also wasn't too happy about how loud they were, swearing they always wake him up in the morning. 

He glares at the kitchen door while he sits down at his dinner table. After a minute of grunting and tapping his fingers on the table, the chef comes out with a plate of fried eggs, bacon and toast. Burns' favorite.

"Finally! Hurry up next time! I don't pay you to be late."

The chef mutters a (fake) apology and leaves. Burns takes a few bites of his food before calling the chef back in. 

"What is this?" Burns motions towards the plate in front of him. 

"Uhh… Breakfast?"

"Breakfast done poorly! " He hurls the plate directly at the chef and it hits him dead center in his face. 

"The yolk is far too cooked and dry, the toast is too crunchy, and the bacon-"

He holds up a seemingly normal piece of bacon

"-is far too curly! I have a bacon press, you'd think with all that racket you make every morning you'd have found it! 'Professional chef' my ass! You say you have a bachelor's in culinary arts, where'd you get it? A cereal box?"

Burns scowled at the chef, who returned the same look. A minute of angry silence, and the chef takes off his apron, uses it to wipe the food grease off his face and chucks it into Burns' arms on his way out the door. Burns wipes down the front of his jacket with his hands and figures he'll just eat at the plant and hire a new cook tomorrow. One with competence this time.

He exits the building shortly after as well. Alongside chefs he had also hired a chauffeur. Frankly, he found it all to be aggravating. He was quite fond of the days where all of his needs were taken care of by the same man. Before recent events, he never had any issues. He would wake up and Smithers would be immediately ready to help him bathe and dress, by the time he sat down at the table his food was already cooked, and when he got outside Smithers would already be waiting for him. All of this done on time and done well without needing to pay 20 different servants to do 20 different jobs at half the quality for twice the price. Not even to mention the things he was still left to do himself.

As the vehicle drove down to the plant he yet again thought about the ways he'd get Smithers back. The other night he had decided on a plan. If Smithers wouldn't come back by himself -he'd sweeten the deal. Smithers wasn't generally a greedy man, but it's human nature to want, and Burns could get anything he asks for. There had to be something Smithers wanted. Jewelry? A new car? A new house? He didn't quite know what Smithers liked but he's sure there's a sum he could pay. Last time he'd tried to bribe Smithers into returning to him all he had to do was tell him he was a good worker and he was back that day AND he got to keep his cash. All of this assuming Smithers doesn't come back on his own. 

_Which he will! I'm just… giving him the push he needs._ He reassured himself, forcing away his growing fear that Smithers might not be planning to return.

_He's just taking his sweet time. He'll come to his senses soon enough. Why on Earth would I be worried?_

The door beside him opens and he steps out. The workers had already arrived an hour ago. Usually they would all be working, knowing that Smithers would be making his morning rounds around the plant while Burns could show up whenever, but Smithers wasn't here anymore and they knew that. 

The doors swing open to the cafeteria as Burns' steps in. Immediately everyone in the room freezes and looks towards the door. Nearly the entirety of the plant was present, bunched up into groups and scattered around. Some were in the middle of food fights, some in real fights, and from the looks of it a soccer game was going on. The workers scatter like roaches in the light. Through the mass of escaping workers, three remain, gathered around a table of cards. A few hundred dollars in twenties and a set of car keys sat in a pile in the center. He points them out of the crowd.

"Lenny! Carl! Uh… you, fat man, what's your name again?"

"Homer Simpson, sir."

"Yes yes, whatever, just get to cleaning this pig sty!"

"But we didn't-" 

Burns just gives them an angry grunt and storms off.

He gets to his office and leans back into his chair. For the first half hour it felt like nothing had changed. He sat reading his newspaper, doing the crossword in silence like he always did. After a particularly difficult word, he smiles and swivels his chair to his left.

"Smithers! I… Oh… Right" 

His smile falls. This wasn't the first time he'd turned over to where Smithers would silently stand awaiting orders, expecting to find his assistant. He missed the company. It was something he couldn't just buy and even if he could, Smithers was quite possibly the only person he could stand to be around. Probably the only person who could stand to be around him as well. He might even go as far as to say he missed Smithers himself.

Realizing he was letting himself feel things he didn't like, he shook his head to clear his thoughts.

 _No, why would I miss him? Why would I care? He's just a mere lackey._ He told himself. _I'm a loner, I didn't get to where I am depending on people, no sir, I stabbed people in the back! I just miss the… the uhm…_

He searched for an excuse.

_The convenience! Yes, I miss the convenience of having someone around to do my bidding!_

To prove to really no-one but himself that he didn't care, he walked over to the monitors to survey the plant. It was easier to distract himself from his worries then to force them away.

The three he had told to get cleaning were still scrubbing the walls. He snickered. He wouldn't have cared if they had stopped once he left, he really only wanted to yell at someone, but it was refreshing to see that they were so terrified of him they would continue to do a menial task to avoid his wrath, even though he wasn't watching them at all since he left. See? He didn't need Smithers. 

He noticed the three men talking among themselves and unmutes the audio to listen in.

"Ever since Smithers left that old fart has been working us like dogs!" Carl said, using a mop and a ladder to knock an assortment of items from the ceiling. 

"Stupid Smithers, making Burns take his anger out on us. Why couldn't he have just stayed being a kiss-ass."

"I don't know guys, I'm kinda happy for him. It's nice to see him not under Burns' feet all the time." Lenny chimed.

"Yeah, it was kinda weird seeing him try to get with old Burnsie. He treated him like dirt. What does he see in that old bag of bones anyway? All that wrinkley skin." Homer shudders at the idea.

All the confidence Burns had just gathered up was now beaten to a pulp.

"I heard he's moved on too. Found a new job doin' the same kinda stuff." 

"Oh really, with who?" 

"Some rich guy. Uhh… one of Burns' pals I think."

"He has a type. Good for him." 

"I guess. Hey did you guys see-"

Burns switched off the monitors. He couldn't stand to hear another word of that baloney. He didn't believe a dime of it. Smithers? Toadying for someone else? And one of his friends no less? Absolute malarkey. He doesn't have friends, and even if he did they'd know better then to meddle in his business. He storms over to his desk and pulls a checkbook out of his coat. He writes out a check and signs it to Smithers' name.

_One million dollars. It's a hefty price, but if it'll pay for whatever surgery is required to extract his head out of his ass I'll pay it._

He doesn't like changes. He didn't like _these_ changes. He didn't like these emotions, and he didn't like that Smithers was the one causing it. He was going to end this. Waiting for Smithers to get back was out the window, now was time for Plan A, some good old fashioned Bribery.

He runs into the cafeteria and immediately yells at the men. The sudden outburst caused Homer to shriek and Lenny to lose his handling on the ladder, which in turn caused Carl to fall and land on him. Both men seemed injured but Burns didn't really care. He points at Homer, who was fine because he wasn't helping the others and wasn't even near them in the first place.

"You!"

_"Me!?"_

"Yes you! I'm in need of assistance! I need to be driven to a location, post-haste!" 

"Y-yes sir, Mr. Burns sir. Where to?" 

"Smithers' house."

Both men head out of the plant. The ride was silent as they approached Smithers' neighborhood. Homer tried to ease the tension.

"So uh, is everything alright with Mr. Smithers?"

"Shut up!"

The ride continued to be silent.

They make it to Smithers' apartment complex and Burns rushes inside, check in hand. Luckily for him, everyone's names are on the outside of the door, or he never would have remembered which door belonged to Smithers. He finds the door with his name on it and begins to pound on the door with both fists. No answer.

He pounds on the door again. Still no answer.

He even tries to knock calmly and gets the same results.

_Fine. I'll let myself in._

He removes a key from the inside of his jacket. He'd wanted a copy of Smithers' key made, and Smithers was all too happy to give it to him. He didn't really know why he wanted it, he guessed he just wanted the feeling of power that came with knowing Smithers could never lock him out. He congratulated his past self for his accidental forward thinking.

He opens the door to an empty living room, and after an inspection of every room, an empty house. The only sign of life came from underneath the couch, where a small animal was growling. Burns tucks the check inside of his pocket and kneels down to check under the couch.

"Hey there little guy. You're that pooch Smithers talks about." 

He reaches his arm further under the couch. Big mistake. The dog almost lands a bite in the side of his hand. Burns retracted his arm back just in time. He huffed and stood up.

_Where is he? What they were saying couldn't be true. He couldn't have a new job! He can't live without me! He should be a drunken mess sulking on his ass drinking his pain away._

He examined the couch. It had so many cigarette holes burnt into it you could probably find a constellation or two. There was an empty duff carrier in the trash. Other than that his house was spotless, but Burns chose not to see that.

_Yeah, look at this place. He's obviously a total wreck. It's fine. He's just out for lunch or booze or something. I'll just… come back later._

He wanted to feel confident in his conclusion that Smithers was still a mess without him, but as good as he was with convincing himself of things; some things were just too hard to believe. 

He walked out of the building and back into the car where Homer was waiting. 

"Where to now, sir?"

"Just take me home." He said, forlornly.

"And the rest of the plant can return home as well."

The day passed by slowly, and Burns spent most of it thinking of Smithers. He found it puzzling. A week ago he would hardly pay Smithers any mind, but now Smithers was all he could think about. A good portion of him wanted to kill the man, or exact some sort of revenge to make himself feel better. But the more he worried he might have genuinely lost him the more he began to become desperate. He noticed he was starting to think less about his punishment and more about getting him here to punish him. 

The clock strikes 8 and Burns was yet again on his way to Smithers'. He was there and at his door in record time. He straightened his collar and knocked on the door, calmy this time. It opened and Burns was face to face with Smithers

"Afternoon, Smit-"

The door slams shut. The metallic sounds of a lock turning was heard.

Burns gently taps on the door.

"Smithers, I need to talk to you."

…

"Smithers I know you can hear me."

" _Go away_ "

"Waylon I need to talk to you."

…

Burns pulled the key out of his pocket and unlocks Smithers' door. He steps inside. Smithers looked appalled by the intrusion. 

"How did you…?" 

Burns dangled the keys in front of him.

"Son of a bitch! I'm changing the locks, get out!"

"I've come here to make an offer." He pulls out the check, ignoring Smithers' demand.

"I don't want it, get out."

"One million dollars-"

"Monty!"

"I tried to come here earlier but you weren't home."

"Wa- Is that why my door was unlocked? You ass! I thought someone broke in- Oh wait, someone did break in, it was you. And you just broke in again. Get out before I call th-"

"What on Earth is this?" Burns' cut him off. On the table by his phone was a small grey business card. He felt like he recognized the card, but from where he couldn't tell. Smithers plucked it out of his hands before he could figure that part out.

"What? Oh- hands off! I need that for work." He crams the card in his back pocket.

"Work?"

"Yes, work. Work that's not being done with _you_."

"With who? How much is he offering you? I'll double -no- triple what he's paying!"

"That's none of your business and I don't! Want! Your money!" Smithers -who was now as red as his bowtie- steps forward, raising his voice and pointing him towards the door.

"I don't want your money! I don't want anything to do with you! Just-"

"Well what do you want!? It's a million dollars, surely you could..." Burns' voice slowly trailed off. He stared at Smithers and shut his mouth.

Tears had begun streaming down Smithers' face. His breath sounded shaky as he, sighed, tried to calm himself. One hand was pinching the bridge of his nose, the other was balled up in a tight fist. Burns wanted to say something but he didn't know how to respond. 

"I just want you to leave, okay?" Smithers said quietly, but obviously frustrated, still trying and failing to hold back his tears.

Burns didn't know what possessed him to follow orders, but he did. He sighed, muttered a 'fine' and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the waiting period between chapters starts to get a little longer. As much as I loved the four-day waiting period between posting chapters 1 and 2, I can't keep up at that speed, lol. I was starting to get kinda burnt out and I felt like that showed in chapter 3.  
> On the plus side, I took my time with this chapter and I'm very happy with it. I'm hoping I can bump my 2,000 word minimum up to 2,500. No promises tho.


	5. Nigel's Manor

Smithers puts his cigarette out and drinks down his second cup of coffee. He'd spent yet another night sulking away stress that was yet again caused by Burns. He didn't get a dime of sleep and was hoping he could at the very least have some energy before work. There wasn't long until he'd be leaving, he decided he'd better get moving and maybe make it in early.

His closet was still full of his old work clothes. He felt a mix of sadness and frustration as he takes his old coat and runs his hand along the familiar brown fabric. From an inner pocket, he pulls out his old plant card. After a solid minute of staring longingly at the laminated card, he tucks both it and the coat back where he took it from. He knew he shouldn't be letting himself miss his old job, especially after last night, but he just can't help himself. He'd moved on, but even still he finds that there's something missing about the new life he chose for himself.

There was a sense of purpose that came with trying to get Burns' affection. He knew that chasing after him was a pointless endeavour, but it was still something to keep moving for. Back then as far as he was concerned he'd had it all figured out. He had everything he needed- except for Burns. Now that he's tossed that dream out the window, as much of a pipe dream as it was, what now? He'd have everything he'd need working with Nigel. His new paycheck was twice what Burns' had been paying, so he'd have his rent paid and food on the table, his Malibu Stacy collection was up to date. He could try to meet other people, but he knew they wouldn't be the same. He just tried to be thankful for the opportunity he'd been given. Working with someone you love being so unreasonably cruel was painful and he's been given the option to change things now, and after last night with Burns busting into his house, things needed to change now more than ever. That was the plan anyway. He'd figure out what to do with Burns later, he was still too angry about the situation to think anything he'd do would be rational.

He runs his fingers through his grey hair and tries to refocus on the task at hand. 

He was wearing a black vest/suit pants combo. His undershirt was white and so where the pair of hand gloves he wore. He still had a bowtie, but it was scarlet red this time. He wasn't familiar with his new outfit, just basic formal wear, but he'd decided that a new look would compliment his new lifestyle. For now all it did was make him uncomfortable and itchy.

There was still a considerable amount of time left before he was due to show up, so he decided to take a detour on his way to work. The city was precisely as beautiful as one would expect a moderately wealthy city to be. The streets and stores were organized and clean, a plaza with a fountain and shops with fresh produce, and there was no scrapyard full of burning tires, filling the air with the suffocating stench of molten rubber. It was the complete opposite of Springfield. All that it was missing was the at-home feel that Springfield had. He definitely felt like a stranger.

The city is small, and it only took Smithers about half an hour drive through the majority of it. He picks up something to eat at a local shop and makes his way to Nigel's, turning off of the paved road and onto a gravel path.

Nigel owned and lived in his estate in Greenville. The size of the house itself wasn't as great as Burns' mansion, but what it lacked in size it made up for grand architecture and an expansive, lush garden. It was gorgeous, and he'd gotten to see nearly all of it on the short tour Nigel had given him on his first day. It was definitely a much different building than what he's used to. Nigel didn't seem to spend his money nearly as frivolously as Burns did, nor did they share the same taste. There were no solid gold statues of himself at every corner and most of the things you'd find studded with diamonds were all things you'd expect to be diamond studded, like watches and rings. That's not to say the interior wasn't decked out to the nines; everything was beautifully furnished in much more modern designs, as opposed to Burns' older Victorian style. He always saw Burns' vain, old-fashioned-royalty type as charming, in its own weird way. 

The fence gates slide open automatically as he drives into the property. A camera surveilling the area followed him as he parked within a garage and headed to the front of the manor. He presses the button of an intercom and waits. It buzzes, then switches to crackling.

"Waylon my boy, you're here early! Wonderful! Do come in."

A metal clack is heard as the manor doors come unlocked and he steps inside. He continues further into the manor, following a map Nigel had given him on his first day. Somewhere within the western side of the manner was a vacant guest's room he was told he could use. He had no plans on staying the night, but he figured if he ever needed to, he was glad there was a bed he could stay in. For now it would just hold his belongings.

_ Burns would have just had me sleep on a chair _ -he grunts-  _ or the floor. _

Following the map, he finds the room he was after. From the looks of it, there was an entire hall dedicated to guest accommodations. Multiple bedrooms, bathrooms, and what appeared to be a common room. The rooms together were twice the size of his puny apartment, and that was only one hall of the entire building. Maybe getting a better place to live was something he should work for.

The room he was given was fairly empty, but still well furnished. A bed in the corner, a window with flowing grey curtains, it even had a small walk-in closet and a dresser with a mirror. He plops his jacket on the dresser and checks his phone. He had a few messages from a group chat he never texts in and spam emails from businesses trying to sell him garbage, but was otherwise uncontacted. He turns his phone off and crams it in his back pocket. 

Noticing his bowtie was crooked, he takes a minute to straighten it out. The sudden sounds of loud tapping from beside him made him jump. Nigel was at the doorway, using the handle of his cane to knock on the wall.

"Making yourself at home, I see?" He leans against the doorway

"Find everything alright?"

"Oh, yessir Mr…" Smithers trailed off.

"York, but please, just call me Nigel."

"Nigel it is then. So, Nigel. What do I do first?" 

"Well, first you can help with breakfast, I suppose. Follow me" 

He beckons for Smithers to follow him. Most of the manor seemed to be decorated in whites and grey, with just a bit of gold. The walls were lined with paintings and statues, much like the halls at Burns', except most of the ones here weren't of himself or his money. Most were of scenery and mythical creatures.

He leads them through a dining hall and into a kitchen. He only had a glimpse of the kitchen in passing during the tour but now that he got a better look he was almost stunned. The kitchen was luxurious, marble countertops and a kitchen island. Nigel points his cane around the room. 

"There's the pantry, you'll find all your dry goods there. These cabinets up here contain the dishes, pots and pans, and the spice rack is in a pullout drawer. This right here-" 

He taps his cane on a part of the floor. It makes a hollow sound as if nothing is underneath it. He uses it like a hook to grab a small, hardly noticeable handle and pull it open, revealing a trap door leading down to what appeared to be a basement. 

"-is the entrance to the wine cellar, as well as a few freezers. I believe you'll find everything you need, hm?"

Smithers nods. They discuss what foods to prepare and when, and Smithers gets to work cooking. According to Nigel, he had chefs to cook large dinners, but had always done things like breakfast and lunch himself, until his hip started giving out.

_ The man liked his freedom. Probably used to cook for his wife, too.  _ He pursed his lips in thought. _ Huh, weird. He didn't mention if his wife wanted anything. He actually didn't mention his wife at all. _

Now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen or heard about his wife since she was in Springfield. Hell, he barely even saw her while she was IN Springfield. She took off immediately after introductions.

_ I'll have to ask him about that I guess. _

There was something so familiar, yet so foreign about carrying out a tray of freshly cooked food to a man other than Burns. He sets the tray on a table in front of Nigel, who was sitting on a couch watching some british reality show on a massive flatscreen in his living room. He smiles at Smithers. 

"Ya'know I've heard from Burns himself you're one of the best cooks in Springfield. I hope you know I expect a lot!" He jokes. 

Smithers blushed at the compliment, though he stops once he realized he was flattered less by the idea of being the best cook in Springfield, and more by the idea that Burns  _ said _ he was.

"Anything else, sir?" 

"You didn't make yourself anything? The kitchens just as much yours as it is mine"

He shook his head.

"Oh no sir, I'm not hungry. But thanks for the offer."

"Suit yourself, but please, do sit down and talk with me. I'd love to get to know you better."

He moves a hand over and pats at the seat next to him. Whatever was playing on the TV was uninteresting, so he let his mind wander. After a few minutes of watching TV in silence, He remembers his previous thought.

"Hey Nigel, if it's okay with me asking, where's your wife? Am I supposed to be cooking for her too or...?

Nigel's smile falls and he lowers his hands to his lap. Smithers guessed by his reaction that something must have happened between the both of them. He was about to say he didn't need an answer, but Nigel spoke first. 

"Oh, her? She's long since left me." He said, a hint of resentment in his voice.

"Ah, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude on your personal business like that, I-"

"No, no, it's nothing I'm not used to by now. I knew she wasn't the one from the start and went ahead with the marriage anyways. But something about seeing how devoted that Homer and his wife were made me realize that maybe I should give romance another shot with somebody else. She wanted to run off with the tennis coach so I let her do so."

Nigel places his empty plate back on the tray.

"It's fine, it just means I'm a man free for the taking again!"

He laughs and grips Smithers' shoulder, giving it a small shake. He releases his grip and leans back in his spot against the couch. 

"So… Nigel. Have any friends you spend your time with now instead?" He asked, trying to change the subject to something happier.

"These days, not so much." He paused as if in thought "I know me and Monty used to go clubbing back when we were both much younger, but those days are over. I rarely ever see him now." Smithers twitched at the mention of Burns' name. He guessed Nigel must have caught it.

"Don't have too much grief over that old man, he treats everyone poorly. Throws everyone out once they've spent their purpose, couldn't be bothered to like anybody if they aren't making him money or if they aren't rich themselves." 

"I wouldn't say that, I mean he does like some people… a little." He didn't know why, but he still felt the need to defend Burns, despite everything.

"Does he like you?"

"O-of course he likes me, I'd been his personal assistant for years! We were friends."

"Then why'd he get rid of you?"

"Wha-? Oh no, he didn't get rid of me, I-I quit on my own. Got him angry, too. He's been trying to get me to come back, actually. Stopped answering his calls so he showed up at my house. Can't believe him sometimes, he just -walked in like he owned the place or something." he noticed Nigel, who was staring at him with an eyebrow raised. 

"Oh! I won't- I'm not- er," he stumbled over his words 

"I don't plan on quitting, er, don't worry. Heh" he coughed nervously. Nigel chuckled. 

"That sounds like Burns alright. Can't handle it when something doesn't go his way." He stands up.

"Say, Waylon, let's spice this conversation up a bit. What do you say to bonding over that drink I'd talked about, shall we? There's still time left before you're off duty."

_ I could use this. _ Smithers thought.  _ I've been so stressed over this fiasco with Burns maybe loosening up and talking to someone could be good for me. _

"Sure." He smiled "I'd love too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been through hell and back trying to smooth out this plot. Would have been fine and all if it wasn't for the fact that I had written a chapter, to then realize it was moving the plot in a direction I didn't like, to then spend waaayy too long trying to salvage it instead of just rewriting the chapter (which is what I ended up doing). I guess at least I know now it's better to just redo things, lol.  
> Didn't keep up on my new 2,500 word minimum either but that's no big deal. It'll just be my goal for the next chapter then. :)  
> Sorry this wasn't very exciting a chapter, I wanted this chapter and next chapter to be more explanation/background stuff before I move too much further  
> ______________________
> 
> We're no longer on hiatus! I've redone the first five chapters, smoothed out the plot a bit, and am beginning work on Ch.6!


	6. New Beginnings

Smithers pours a drink for Nigel and slides it across to him. Unsurprisingly, the man had an in-house bar and quite the expansive collection of wines and liquors. 

"So Waylon-" Nigel takes a sip of his drink, sitting at one of the stools

"-you mentioned Monty showed up at your house last night? What's been going on with him? He hasn't been too pestersome has he?" 

Smithers huffed as he poured his own drink. 

"Oh him? God, he's… not really taking me leaving well. I'm sure he'll get over himself eventually, he's probably just pissed someone dared walk out on him."

Nigel hummed in acknowledgement.

"So Nigel, what about you? What's your experience with the old vulture?" 

"We met decades ago at some posh boarding school for wealthy parents to dump their children, I was in his little circle of friends." 

"God I can hardly imagine Burns in a school setting. Let me guess, he was just as cruel and ruthless then as he is now?"

"Eh, not at first. Poor lad hated being there, as small and skinny as he was -well, still  _ is _ really- he was fair game for everyone. Of course, until they found out just how powerful his grandfather was. Oh, how the tables turned!"

"Ha! Sounds like him alright." Smithers laughed then gulped down the last of his scotch, setting the empty glass on the counter and leaning a bit more forward, listening intently to the conversation.

"He pretty much owned the place after that. Could get away with damn near anything! I didn't want to be on whatever side of the playground would be trampled under his feet next so I befriended him." He laughed.

"Me and Monty have been close friends ever since! Oh, the chaos we'd cause!" Nigel waves his hand in the air dramatically, a half smile spread across his cheek. 

For the next several minutes, the two men laughed and chatted away, Nigel telling stories about Burns and the shenanigans he'd get into with him. Stories of him and Burns running amuck through the school, the tests they'd pass without a single right answer, the sports teams they joined that never received a foul no matter how many rules they broke, the teachers that wouldn't dare reprimand them no matter how many spitballs flew their direction. Burns definitely sounded much more fun as a kid, more interested in the havoc he could cause and less in the pursuit of fortune. Smithers was almost jealous, though he knew well enough he never would have cut it in Burns' friend circles. He was way too much the nerdy, A+ student type to have been anything but the exact kid Burns and his clique would pick on.

"But enough about I, what about you, dear boy? What circumstances brought you to his arsenal of yes-men?" 

"Oh, me? Well… my story's certainly not as fun. A bit sad, actually." Smithers hesitates, but continues seeing as Nigel was still interested.

"...I wanted to find out more about my father, originally. He passed when I was too young to ever know him. My mother had always told me he'd worked for Burns -he was Burns' assistant before me actually- but she would never really elaborate as to who Burns was or what my dad did in his career, so I guess when I got tired of switching to and from different dead-end office jobs, I set out to try and find out about him myself. I figured if I was going to end up in yet another dead-end I could at least come out of it knowing a bit more about him. I don't think she ever really supported him in his decisions, at least not in that field. She was certainly…  _ less than enthusiastic _ … finding out I had begun to do the same thing." 

Smithers pours himself another drink. He thought about the events of about 15 years prior, when he had first brought it up to his mother that he'd moved back to his old birthplace of Springfield and taken up a job there. She'd been damn near in hysterics over it. Screaming about how he was going to get killed too, and that she would lose both of her Waylons to  _ that monster _ . No matter how much he tried to assure her that he wouldn't be there for long, or that he was only there to scope out his old birth city or discover what happened to his dad would console her. His relationship with his mom kind of crumbled after that, and had remained crumbled for pretty much the entire time he had been with Burns. He made a mental note that he should probably give her a call and tell her the good news. 

After a pause, he continued.

"The only thing I ever got out of her was her saying Burns was a lying, scheming, materialistic vulture and that my dad was a fool for trusting him. I guess she was right in the end, though. Hell, now I feel like a fool for trusting him." He looks into his drink, holding an expression that was really more exhausted than sad. Nigel pats the top of Smithers' hand with his own in a comforting gesture.

"My condolences, Waylon." He says softly. Smithers offers a friendly smile.

"Ah, no worries. It's all history now." He takes a swig of his drink and exhales.

"All of it."

Nigel was facing away from Smithers staring at his drink, slowly swirling the clear glass, watching the dark liquid inside spin in a clockwise motion. He stops, and after a few seconds of admittedly awkward silence, spoke, still looking at his glass.

"Waylon, do forgive me if I'm being maybe a bit too intrusive, but if I may ask; have you found that  _ special someone _ in your life yet?"

Smithers nearly choked on his drink. He was not expecting to be asked his teenage years' most dreaded question. There's only so many times you could answer with 'I just haven't found the right person yet' before everyone at the annual family gathering starts suspecting something's up. He wasn't sure he should even be open about his sexuality around Nigel. Sure, he didn't have much reason to not trust him but still- he barely knew the man and as far as he was concerned, he'd spilled enough about his personal life already. In fact as far as he was concerned Nigel already knew and if not, he'd let him stay none the wiser.

"Er… um, ah… n-no, heh. Not- not really. Not yet anyways." An obvious discomfort in his voice. 

"I uh, guess I'm just waiting for the right person to come along." Smithers gives him a faint smile. Nigel chuckles.

"Aren't we all, dear friend? Aren't we all. Though I must admit, I think at this point I've stopped believing my right person ever will." He finished his sentence with a hummed sigh.

"Aw don't say that." Smithers sympathized. "It's never too late to find someone."

"No, no, dear friend. It's not my age I'm worried about. Merely it's the type of people I attract. The people I always find myself ending up with either never stay long or never stay faithful. It's truly a tragedy. These days I find myself doubting whether love actually exists, at least for me."

Smithers began to feel sad for the man.

"Well, I'm a firm believer that love will find a way-" Smithers comforts "- and I don't see why that wouldn't apply to you as well."

Nigel taps his glass on the counter. 

"Maybe, but I must say, I do believe Monty faces the same problem. Why, I think the only person that's stuck around with him for long was  _ you. _ " 

"Well true, but I don't think Burns was ever in any rush to get married in the first place. If anything he'd probably hate the idea of having to pay attention to anyone for more than five minutes. And me and Burns were strictly professional. I was just his assistant, no more, and no less."  _ As much as I wanted to be more than just professional _ he thought.

Nigel raises his eyebrow at this. Smithers chose to pretend he didn't see that.

"Hmm. Maybe you're right, maybe not. It seems like we've both felt our fair share of loneliness."

"Pfft, tell me about it." 

Nigel raises his glass.

"Well, things have changed now for the both of us. Let's just hope whatever the future holds is much brighter. A toast to a new partnership, and new beginnings". He said with a smirk.

Nigel toasts his glass against the side of Smithers'. It makes a small 'tink' sound as the edges meet.

"To new beginnings." 

The rest of the day went by quickly for Smithers, and soon enough he was in his car heading home towards his small Springfield apartment. He had a lot to think about now after his talk with Nigel. He spent much of the travel questioning the professionality of his new job. At least the previous night's incident with his former employer was long since out of his mind, for now.

He checked his phone, and in doing so remembered he wanted to call his mother. It'd been months since they had last spoke. Actually, the last time they'd spoken was him having left a birthday message on her Facelook, nearly four months ago. 

He flips through his contacts and finds her number. Bringing the phone to his ear, he hears the dial tone play before a click as the phone is picked up on the other end.

"Waylon?"

"Hey, mom." He replies cheerfully

"Waylon, it's been so long since you've called. I could swear you almost forgot about me."

"Yeah, I know. And I'm sorry about that. But how are you, how've you been?" 

"Oh I've been doing just fine. How are you, I see that old Burns hasn't gotten you killed yet?" She says, with a hit of hatred in her voice at the mention of his name.

"Heh, I'm doing just fine Ma, and actually Burns is what I called to talk to you about."

He places the phone on speaker as he opens his bedroom drawers to change out of his work clothes and into something more comfortable.

"What? Has that old bastard finally croaked?"

"Huh? Oh, no he's still alive and kicking, but-"

"Has he done something to you? I warned you about this Waylon but you didn't want to hear it!"

"No mom, I just wanted to tell you that I've finally quit."

"Oh, well why are you telling me this? Are you finally moving back here?"

"I've already found a new job here, I can't move. I just figured you'd be happy to know that I'm no longer working for him. Oh, and I made it out with my life too!" He said with a sarcastic tone.

"Waylon don't get funny with me. That's the man that killed your father and could just as well have killed you too!"

"I told you, dad died preventing a nuclear catastrophe, Burns never wanted him dead."

"You shouldn't have called if you were just going to start this argument again, junior."

"You're right, Just- just nevermind." He decides better not to argue 

"Sorry, You're right. It doesn't matter anymore anyways. I was just calling to tell you the news and see how you were. We don't talk as much as we used to. Not since I moved here. I was just thinking we could talk more, ya'know?" 

"Waylon, I love you to death. I just wish you would have kept up on your word that you'd only be there long enough to hear about your dad and leave. I've been worried sick about you for Fifteen years! I was almost half expecting this phone call to be the police telling me you'd been killed in some freak accident trying to further one of his little money schemes. Burns is a bad, bad man."

"I know, mom. Trust me, you don't need to convince me."

"Well, alright. it's late and I have to get to bed before I pass out in my seat. I'm happy for you, dear. That old vulture is bad news. Tell me you aren't getting mixed up in bad people this time? And you'll call again soon?"

Smithers smiles.

"Don't worry about me mom. And yeah, I'll call again again. Love you, goodnight."

And with a 'love you too', his mother hung up and he had finished changing into something he could sleep in. Though, his mother's comment about not getting mixed up with bad people was a thought. Nigel wasn't a bad person, right? Certainly not by comparison to the average man, but neither was  _ he _ really. He was a lot better than Burns, that's for sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohmygod have I really not updated this thing since January????
> 
> I did not mean for my hiatus to be that long? Goodness. I guess time flies when everything just kinda blurs together into one long strand of being awake and then not being awake but I guess that's just what being at home under quarantine does to you. 
> 
> Anyways- chapter 6! Finally! I make no promises that chapter 7 is gonna be too quick to arrive either but hopefully it won't take like 8 months this time.


End file.
